


Candy Store

by Diddle_Riddle



Series: Scars to your Beautiful [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Companionable Snark, Gen, Murder, Pamela is not a good person, but we all love her, questionable life choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-02-21 15:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18704911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diddle_Riddle/pseuds/Diddle_Riddle
Summary: "Why... why don't you finish the job yourself?", Edward asked again, in a weaker tone than intended. "Why asking me to do it?!""Because it's about time you loose your virginity.", Pamela answered, sarcastic, with her fists on her hips and her merciless gaze piercing through his mind. "We followed you as you made your first steps into the business, and we helped you getting used to this life. Now prove us you truly deserve your place. Let us witness your first murder."





	Candy Store

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of a series, but each part can be read as a stand-alone, the episodes are made to be autonomous and independent enough. Although if you want to read everything, I strongly recommend you follow the parts in numerical order, since there is a chronological and logical progression in the story, following Edward's evolution through the years at different key moments of his life.
> 
> And yes, the title for this episode is indeed from the Heathers' "Candy Store".  
> Thank you for reading! <3  
> Enjoy :)

Riddler.

He was the Riddler, a mastermind who sets up schemes in town, plays with the Batman and his acolytes, and spends his free time with the other Rogues Gallery members. He managed to make people _recognize_ this as an actual, powerful  _name_ , rather than an appellation used once in a while what didn't mean much to anyone. Now they were the Rogues Gallery, they referred under this name to each other, as the label of their group.

Edward Nygma, the Riddler, member of the Rogues Gallery.

Eddie smiled to himself.

Who could have bet that becoming a supervillain who gets regularly beaten up by Batman then spends time in a dirty asylum where zero respect for anything looking like human rights applies, could be so... entertaining. For sure, it came with a few disagreements too, but Eddie supposed that every way of life has their own burden of complications. These complications simply don't always involve a giant Bat and an asylum which could be called Hell itself without hasty judgement, given the fact this opinion was shared by many in town.

But for the rest... Edward enjoyed himself, he wasn't even hidding it.

Now he had fame, money, acolytes, maybe 'friends' even, although they never called each other like that out loud. He was no longer nothing else than a damaged kid, a lonely, scared little boy.

Now he was _someone_.

Someone important, at least important enough the way he saw it. Someone feared, at least feared enough to make him feel superior in more than one way.

Things were not only looking up, they have been _very good_ for him over the previous year and a half, from the day when he officially became the Riddler.

Objectively, this may didn't seem like a long time; but in Gotham City, it was more than enough to plan a lot and be known for your actions. Therefore, because he never spent more than one month at Arkham after he got arrested (usually the calculation of time wasted there turned more around two weeks than longer), Edward had already plenty of occasions to make a name of his own by setting up schemes across the town.

The Riddler was somebody, and that somebody was him.

And he loved everything about it.

_______________

 

"And this how I almost got him.", Selina ended, a quite satisfied smile on her lips.

Edward grinned.

"Close indeed.", he complimented. "Wanna hear how 'close' I got that one time in the toy factory?"

"Something tells me that whatever my answer to this question is gonna be, you will tell me anyway."

"You know me too well."

They shared an accomplice glance, and shook their glass together. Eddie doesn't drink, he didn't like it at all, so the amber color in his glass was apple juice instead of champagne like in Selina's flute. And yes, that got him a few comments from the others _every_ time, who outlined mockingly how much of 'a baby' he was. He may didn't like this particular attention, at least it was attention directed _exclusively_ at him, so Ed wasn't even complaining about it.

Then he narrated his own adventure with Batman to Selina.

No one could tell he was the Riddler for under two years. He already did so much, set up so many traps and progressed so fast, it almost seemed like he was one of the main, ancient team.

Almost.

Because a few rogues still saw him as... a child. He was not eighteen, so technically they weren't wrong about that, but Ed didn't like being taken for a kid. Sometimes when it was just jokes, he admitted it was more funny than anything else, so he could go for it. But he absolutely _hated it_ when they judged him, thought he was too young to succeed at something, too immature to play the game at the same level as the others, not old enough to participate at some meetings. As if age meant a damn thing in their business! He was smarter than none of them will ever be, what should it matter that he was barely old enough to learn how to drive?!

Catwoman, although a close associate and someone he sincerely appreciated, treated him like that sometimes. More that once, she asked him if he was sure he really wanted to keep going down that path, she even tried to take the role of a _guidance counselor_ every now and then, in order to evoke with him what else he could do with his life if he stepped out of the business and went civilian.

He loathed when she did that, and he never pretended otherwise: he was _happy_ with the way things were, he _liked_ what he was becoming, he _enjoyed_ the turn his life was taking. Since he was convinced of it and got frustrated very easily, Selina didn't insist too much on the subject.

However, from time to time she had this... look, in her emerald green eyes. Nearly like she was _sorry_ , as if she was responsible in some way for letting him pursue on this road. As if the decision was hers, and she failed somewhere to rightly orientate him. Edward assured to her it was not the case, and that he most certainly didn't need a guardian to watch over him, he was clever enough to take his own life decisions. She always ended up agreeing and they skipped arguing over it.

He just wished she was sincere when she concluded with a sigh, and said he was right to do what he wanted.

But well, it was true _he_ chose this life, and that it was _his_ will entirely to keep going. So for as concerned as Selina may feel, and as unnecessary as Eddie always told her it was she felt that way, he won't change what was happening to him. On the contrary. He chose it. He fought for it. And he regretted nothing.

A few other rogues treated him a similar way too, only without Catwoman's worry akin to a motherly concern. The first day he met the Penguin for example, the small man raised a deformed hand to him and told him to "go back play in the playground" and "let the adults chat together". Cobblepot didn't appreciate at all seeing his main money account hacked then robbed entirely and dispatched to various accounts he never managed to track back, along with a giant green question mark appearing on his dear Iceberg Lounge's facade, plus a puzzle set up just for him. Puzzle he failed to solve, and had to wait for Batman and Robin to rescue him. His life may never was in danger (Eddie's traps were not lethal after all), it had been highly humiliating for the crime boss. At least he got the lesson, because the following time they met he didn't joke again about Riddler's age. And, though angry at him, he accepted to count him as a member of the 'circus freak show' as he called the Rogues Gallery. As if Cobblepot excluded himself from it, and reckoned he was different.

The other rouges lavishly mocked the owner of the Lounge for this habit he apparently had since way back, as Edward rapidly found out.

As for the others? Well... there was the group he had no interest in knowing more about (Croc, Man-Bat, Bane...) because they were too uninteresting in his opinion, and clearly unable to hold even the beginning of an entertaining conversation with him. Then there was the underrated villains, who simply didn't deserve his attention because they were losers and Ed had no time to waste with them. The list of this category was actually very _extended_. And there was the ones he interacted with here and there to facilitate a trip at Arkham, or to obtain things from them. What worked most of the time, and often without complications. There was no problem the Riddler couldn't solve after all.

Honestly, he never enjoyed being part of the world more than he did now.

And he was determined to keep going on that path, for as long as he could, without meeting any setbacks on the way.

_____________

 

"I talked with the new girl in town. As surprising as it may seem, she is good company."

Pamela huffed dismissively.

"You mean that jester always clenching Joker's leg and talking like a poor girl?", she jeered. "Your standards must have fallen very low lately, Jon."

The two oldest shared a defiant glance, and Edward smiled at their teasing.

"She was a psychiatrist.", the red-headed teenager argued, choosing to back up Jonathan this time. "I bet from one doctor who went crazy to another, you guys have a lot to relate."

That made Jon grumble and Pam grin.

Fine, maybe he was more on Pammy's side right now, but teasing Jonathan was always _so_ funny, he couldn't pass an occasion.

"Well believe it or not.", the professor emphazied. "Harleen Quinzel is an interesting mind and vivid intelligence I had the pleasure to discover under this mask of buffoonery coming with her character and her self-destructive, weird relationship with the Joker."

"Don't call it a 'relationship'.", Eddie sneered. "The guy barely knows her and over the months they started their little team-up thing? He only used her as bait and bodyguard. He doesn't give a damn about her, it's obvious even for us while we never approached her."

The other occupants of the room nodded.

They all knew Quinzel because during a short time, she had been a doctor at Arkham so they talked to her a bit. Even if she very soon became Joker's personal therapist, treating exclusively his case. Before breaking him out and following him in a mad attempt at 'love', without anything romantic beneath the surface.

This was silly honestly. And now that she became Harley Quinn, the rare moments she spent in Arkham as a patient never matched with their own stays, so they didn't see each other over the previous five months during when the Joker's sidekick appeared. Not that they had much interest regarding anything concerning the clown, but since Jonathan informed them that he met her by accident during one of his schemes and they ended up interacting then successfully teamed up, he related his opinion on the newest Gotham City villain.

"She is smart.", he defended again his position. "That's something we value before anything else, otherwise we won't be sticking around with each other.", he said almost as if it was a fatality that they stayed together, and the two others smiled.

Indeed, Edward loved it since he joined the group: Jonathan Crane, Pamela Isley and Jervis Tetch were colleagues who often worked together, for plans but also in the every day life. They regularly met over to talk science, or even to support one with the other over some subjects.

And Jon and Pam were also the first rogues he met after he put on his Riddler costume.

He may wasn't sure how it happened precisely, but he saw himself becoming sort of... accepted, in their strange patched-up trio. He was a scientist as well, he was smart, way smarter than anyone, they had to acknowledge it; and he was able to keep up a conversation about pretty much everything. So he could work on the conceptions and improvements of both the fear toxins, Ivy's poisons and Tetch's circuits for mind control. On that point, he was the kind of ally everyone wants by their side and the kind of enemy nobody wanted, because he was adaptable enough to work on every type of area, he always had all the answers.

And of course, he had a tendency for self-praise, so maybe not everyone saw him as _that_ useful or was _that_ impressed by his skills, but it didn't keep him from being convinced everyone wanted him by their side because of his impressive potential.

"Maybe we should invite her over one of these days?", Jonathan proposed again.

Pamela immediately glared at him.

"Let this girl where she is, I don't want another human in my greenhouse, we are numerous enough right now."

The two others smiled.

They often shared hideouts, but no question: Pamela's greenhouses and the places she used as laboratories were always the best meeting points to talk science and lead experiments together.

Jervis wasn't currently there, they weren't always the four of them to work, even though they turned out to be more productive when they all reunited.

"Someone is in a bad mood today.", Eddie jested, then smirked when Pamela shot him a -very expected- warning gaze.

"Don't start, kid.", she menaced. "You're in my greenhouse, remember? Meaning you say something I don't like, you regret it dearly the following _second_."

But the warning just made him laugh, and she huffed at his reaction.

Not many people could lightly make fun of Poison Ivy and get out alive with it.

So okay, over the almost two years he started teaming-up with the three scientists, he collected a few injuries due to times when he pushed too far the provocation with Isley. Poison-related infections, cuts coming from aggressive and monstrous varieties of plants, bruises when vines slapped him like it happened more often than he was comfortable admitting. But that was it, and for Edward it meant nothing, he had seen much worse. Besides, Pamela never actually tried to inflict him permanent or severe wounds. The few scars he collected after cuts from vines were only small ones, and they mixed with the complete collection of other, much bigger and more present, ever-lasting scars covering his body.

He never blamed her for being a bit sharp sometimes. On the contrary, he liked her company and could never stop himself from teasing her gladly.

"I can't see why not.", Jonathan brought back the subject, later, while they ate dinner at a table together.

Pamela rolled her eyes.

"Really, Jon? At this again?! What do you want with this girl, exactly? Court her? Use her as your new test subject?"

"What? Absolutely not!", he replied, unamused. "I told you, she's a nice child, she's smart, sort of funny and most of all: Joker's mentorship is a _terrible_ influence, so I think we should intervene to take her out of his grip."

"Sure.", Ivy scoffed. "Because the idiotic purple clown is a vile and perverted creature, no point to deny that. But _us_ , we are... a model of sanity and healthy life habits."

Another death glare from Crane, probably learned from the Bat himself. The entire Rogues Gallery often copied Batman's gaze, to the point that from being a sort of game between them, it evolved into a real habit they practiced without noticing anymore.

"That's not what I meant.", he denied curtly. "Just that I don't like the way he treats her, and I believe she deserves a much better orientation. If she wants to keep going down that path and live as an actual rogue, then good for her but she must join the _righteous_ side of Hell instead of thinking a devil like Joker can offer her anything else that pain and sufferings."

"The 'righteous side of hell', hu?", Pam quoted. "Aren't we feeling poetic today, Jonny?"

"Don't ya give me da't look.", he said through gritted teeth, his Southern accent popping up more strongly, like every time when he was angry or tired.

"Oh, looks like I woke up Georgia boy..."

"Isley! That's enough ya unrespectful..."

"Mom, dad.", Edward whined, who has been strangely quiet until now, watching their little argument. "Stop fighting, you're ruining all our family dinners."

They both snapped their heads to him and scolded at the same time:

"Shut. Up. Eddie."

That made him burst out laughing, and the two older ones chuckled as well at the reaction, the mood definitely lighted.

 

"Hey, kid!", Pamela called before he went to bed that night, since the three of them lodged at Ivy's hideout for the time being.

"Yup?"

"Just for the record...", she began, frowing slightly. "I know you were joking, but if you had to pick... tell me, which one of Jon and I is your mom and which one is the dad?"

That caused him to smirk. He wasn't expecting her to recall this.

"Well...", he answered mischievously. "I must say Miss Isley, that you don't radiate any form of maternal affection or feminine behaviour. Sure Jon doesn't either, but he is definitely less sharp and much more caring and patient than you are. Sorry for your feminist values, in addition to the fact you objectively despise men even more than the rest of human kind, but Pammy  _you are_ the man of the group."

And he hurried to disappear upstairs to his room after this when he saw Ivy's cheeks turning red with anger and wisely elected not to be around with her until she cooled off a bit.

Once safely inside his bedroom however, he bursted out laughing again.

Really, both on the villain business and the private area, his life was going just fine, and much better than he ever expected things would turn out for him.

_______________

 

"Why can't you kill him yourself?!"

"I told you so, Jon.", Pamela criticized. "He is not ready. He still gives himself an exit possibility to step back."

Jonathan's cold blue gaze judged him without any tenderness.

"We can't leave witnesses.", he said again. "This man must die, just like the others, so that we can leave the place without fearing someone might tell the police what we were looking for."

"I know that!", Edward retorted, highly frustrated because not knowing where the sudden gloomy atmosphere came from. "Why are you guys making a problem over this today?! Just shoot him down and let's get out of here before the bats arrive!"

The three scientists shared a look.

"There's something different.", Jervis explained. "About the _way_ we're gonna deal with this today, child."

"What's 'different'?", he inquired, far more unsure, and his tone betrayed he already understood yet hoped he was mistaken and arrived at a faulty conclusion.

The others smirked darkly, and once again Edward found himself debating internally over who is the creepiest when they smile. It was not always easy to decipher which one of his science bros is the more scary at times.

"It's your turn.", Jonathan told him, then put a gun, taken from one of the now dead guards, between his hands.

Edward blinked, while the beginning of a well-known  _panic_ started to manifest itself in his organism.

"I... I don't know how to use it."

It was true, but far from being a convincing argument, he was aware of it as he voiced it out loud in a way too shaky intonation.

"This is not a problem.", Jon assured indeed. "We have time, you can miss a few shots before getting it right. Or you can just put the barrel on his forehead and fire, you won't mess it up that way."

Ed blinked again, looking at the gun then to the frightened guard, then back at the three adults who have been something between his protectors, his teachers and his colleagues over his two years of beginnings as the Riddler.

"Why... why don't you finish the job yourself?", he asked again, in a weaker tone than intended. "Why asking _me_ to do it?!"

"Because it's about time you loose your virginity.", Pamela answered, sarcastic, with her fists on her hips and her merciless gaze piercing through his mind. "We followed you as you made your first steps into the business, and we helped you getting used to this life. Now prove us you truly deserve your place. Let us witness your first murder."

Edward bit his lip. Hard. And clenched the weapon in his hands.

It was _the_ thing he had never done. Sure, his schemes provoked a few complications here and there, even a few injuries on people who were not directly aimed. But nothing permanent, and nothing intentional.

He never killed anyone.

And if one day his actions ended up causing someone's death, he always believed it would be when doing collateral damages. If that happened, then he won't feel responsible, it would be just part of the game and it won't be as if he deliberately murdered a person in cold blood.

He had never done that. He was seventeen, will turn eighteen in two weeks, he was a supervillain, an ally of some of the most feared and respected Rogues Gallery members, and one of Batman's nemesis.

But he was not a proper 'criminal' since contrary to his colleagues, he never crossed the line of causing physical or psychological permanent harm, or worse... death.

"... I don't want to.", he stated after a long moment of watching the scene around him.

His tone came out neutral. He was not afraid of his colleagues, they were... quite special and very spooky in the way they did _everything_ and how they talked to him sometimes. But he was not afraid of them.

Therefore he extended the weapon back to Jonathan.

"I won't kill this guy.", he announced, resolute. "You can take that gun and put a bullet in his head yourself, I am not your maid, I don't have to do the dirty work for you."

"But here's precisely the problem.", Jonathan opposed, almost delicate now, as he pushed the hand with the weapon to place it back close to Ed's chest. "This is not just 'my' dirty work, or Pam and Jervis'.", he added, and the two others nodded. "This is _ours_.", he ended. "It's not the first time we rob a laboratory together, and it always makes victims. But until today, we never asked you to participate into the 'making victims' part. Well this changes now."

"... Why?", he asked, feeling his breathing rate already increasing. "Why would that bother you now while it's been over two years since none of you ever asked this from me?!"

"We are too nice with you, kid, that's why.", Ivy revealed. "Because you're young, because you have been an _apprentice_ at some point and because we were all much older than you are when we made our first moves into the business. You are both the rookie we took a certain pleasure into training and the youngest face to have ever joined the Gallery. It's normal we never forced you to commit murder. Murder is not for children, after all. Now time to show us you grew up."

He knew he should protest, he knew he should feel terrified.

However he was more _upset_ than frightened by what they asked him to do.

"Killing people doesn't mean growing up.", he corrected so, glaring at the three of them. "Fine, all of you made your name along with your first victims. But _I managed_ to become somebody _without_ killing. I don't need to be considered a criminal to be known, famous and attract Batman's attention."

His voice became stronger as he pursued:

"I am _better_ than that! Not because I morally think it's wrong, but because I have _no need_ to get away with murder to be feared and recognized!"

Thus he ended, determined:

"I won't kill this guy."

The three other rouges, all around twenty years older than him, eyed each other a short moment.

"Do you think you are 'better'... than us?", Jervis inquired afterwards, curious, looking up to him with his big questioning blue eyes. "You think stepping aside every time we kill someone and not doing anything to stop us but simply staying on the side not to get your hands dirty is not being involved just as much?"

"... I never killed anyone.", he dithered. "But I won't deny either I don't feel anything when I see you guys having recourse to... radical practices. I never said it's wrong or right, and I never tried to lecture you or anything. My point is just that I don't feel _concerned_ by it. I don't kill, that's it. And this is not changing tonight."

Other quick shared glance. A message clearly circulated between the three of them.

"Catwoman kills.", Pamela started to list then. "She refers to herself as non-lethal, but it's not true, she kills when she has to, sometimes even in situations in the ones she could _avoid_ making victims. Yet she is considered as the less dangerous of the main rogues because non-killing, just after you. But compared with her, you are a pussy. What are you planning to do, keep wearing your costume yet never fully step into the dark side?"

"What are you reciting here, Pam?", he jeered in response. "A Star Wars speech to convince me to join the Forces of Evil?"

She shot him a very unamused look.

"Don't mock me, kiddo. You know it never ends well when you play smart ass with me."

True indeed. She may was his colleague, she... well... might have tested a few of her poisons on him whenever he upset her.

Edward didn't understand right away where the explosion of pain came from. He couldn't quite figure out what action caused the scream to escape from his throat, and the atrocious burn he felt on his leg. Tears clouded his vision and when he looked down at his right leg, the green leotard was already soaked with blood.

And as he looked back up, he saw Ivy's arm aimed, she just fired of her small crossbow fixed on her left wrist, and a dart collided with his calf.

He failed to put the pieces together. Why... why did that...

"Prove me I have been right to lost time in your company.", Pamela declared coldly, not an ounce of sympathy radiating neither from her tone nor her body language. "Kill. That. Man."

His eyes grew wide.

"Are you... are you _threating_ me?!"

He couldn't believe it. The pain clouded his judgement, and he was about to bent down to try taking off the dart, when Jon's hand blocked the intended movement.

He gazed at the tall man with disbelief.

"Are you _all_ threating me there?!", he almost yelled at them now, anger, pain and... betrayal mixing together in his mind to produce a terrible sensation. "What are you gonna do?! Kill me?! Shoot me until I agree to do something I don't want to?!"

"If you knew you were about to get hurt.", Jervis said. "Would you have refused to kill this stranger?"

The short blond man appeared a bit... bothered, by the sight of the small quantity of blood on Edward's spandex. Bothered, and even mildly... reproving. He certainly was not at the origin of this idea.

Nevertheless he didn't intervene or tried to stop Isley from shooting him.

"I..."

Of course no, was what Edward realized in response to Tetch's question. If it was to save himself, he would have killed someone without caring about the action, without giving it a thought. He had _priorities_. Plus they were talking about a guard in a secured laboratory, not a child. He could never kill or hurt children, that was an established fact. But this trembling unknown man? What should it matter to him, that he lived or died? It didn't. He didn't care about his fate.

He just wished he won't have been... threatened, into becoming a criminal, and even less threatened to do so by people he _trusted_.

"I don't like the way you are talking to me right now.", he told them sternly, doing his best to control the pain.

His long experience with injuries of every kind helped the resistance training.

Although his remark made Ivy's cheeks flush red, and she stepped closer.

"Pamela.", Jonathan ordered. "Be nice."

"You shut up, Crane.", she aggressively replied, not minding much the cold tone of voice and the warning in Scarecrow's demeanor.

Then she just gripped Ed by the collar, looking down to him since even if he almost finished his growth now, she was taller than him.

"Now, kid. Are we gonna have a problem?! You got a bone to pick? You've come so far, why now are you pulling on my dick?! You want another motivation to do as I told you, or is one injury enough for you?!"

"Why would you make me kill?!", he snapped back, trying to control the agonizing pain from his calf.

He was used to pain, used to bleed out, to get broken bones, cuts, burns, and various types of wounds. But the product on Ivy's darts hurt like _hell_.

"Because I want you to join the team.", she retorted, looking deep into his eyes, their iris of a dark green from Ivy and a very light, opalescent green from Edward plunged into each other's. "You made a lot of progresses, and while I thought you won't survive a day in this business the first time we met, not only you managed to improve, but also to get better, and to _become_ one of us. Now time for you to prove you're not a loser anymore, and take that final step you always refused to complete."

She pulled him closer, her face at just a few centimeters from his, he felt her breath on his mouth.

"Show me.", she whispered. "Show me you are no longer a baby. Prove me you fully deserve your place in this life and I have been right to open the path for you."

Then she released him, as if he was a doll or a puppet she could manipulate as she wished.

"Be a man, Eddie.", she ended. "Finish the work."

He didn't feel anything about what he was about to do. He didn't feel... bad, or sad. But he was nervous. Nervous he'd miss, nervous something might happen, nervous someone risked to know about what he did tonight.

"P-Please...", the man begged.

The strong dose of fear toxin he breathed earlier had not retracted from his organism yet, but he began to recover an uncertain grip on reality as the hallucinations progressively stopped.

He looked up to him with wide, scared eyes, and Ed wondered what he toxin made him visualize.

"P-Please dad...", the man (whom must be in his early thirties) articulated more audibly, and the teenager's blood ran cold. "P-Please stop... Not... not the belt... p-please..."

Edward's lips trembled.

"I...", he tried to tell him, only to provoke another movement of recoil from the man whose hallucinations seemed to remain vivid despite the product retreating by now.

Jonathan explained one day that the effectiveness of his toxin depended on the person. A subject who lived a deep trauma in his past always reacted more strongly to the product than someone who had a fear that wasn't linked with a personal experience, or who was scared of something but not to the point it turned into a proper 'phobia'. Everyone reacted to the toxin, he never met anyone who was numb to it yet. The episodes caused by reactions took only more or less time to last and were more or less violent depending on the person gassed.

"Edward."

He startled when Jon put a hand on his shoulder and the other beneath his fists clenching the gun.

"This man is nothing you must..."

"He thinks I'm his father about to hurt him!", Ed cried out, and he realized tears began to flow on his cheeks. "I can't... I am not... how could I kill him now?!"

"Like this."

Jonathan positioned him and steadied his trembling hands.

"I won't pull the trigger.", he told him softly, practically _lovingly_ what was frankly disturbing, while he kept his grip around his hands to control the violent shaking of Ed's gestures. "I can hold you still, but not activate it for you."

Edward turned his head to the side.

He didn't watch when he pulled the trigger.

He only heard the sound like a drum in his ears, and the noise made by the guard's body when he fell on the ground. The man was already sitting, so the move wasn't a big one, but to Ed it reverberated like a tornado. He didn't grant the corpse a glance afterwards, and he let go of the gun as soon as he fired.

The following part of the evening happened like he was in the middle of a thick fog, and both his vision and his auditory sense were blurred. He knew he walked, half-leaning against Jonathan's much taller frame, who kept a bony arm around his shoulders and dragged him along with them. He registered the movement of a car Jervis drove when they exited the laboratory. They were at a very fringe location, a place lost in the woods, meaning they could take their time without risking an intervention from the bats.

He felt that someone took care of his calf once they were in the car. Pamela or Jonathan? He couldn't tell, but there was a higher possibility for it to be Crane, because at some point he must have been drugged to make it hurt less, he felt it at the sensation of his whole body being suddenly too heavy for him to carry. Isley won't have been so careful; she probably provided the counterpoison and the lotion to appease the burning, but she won't have been the one to apply it.

He let them do, he didn't say a word, he wasn't registering much of what happened in his surroundings anyway. He wasn't even sure someone talked to him at all during the drive back.

When they arrived at the hideout, a house in the middle of the swamps they used currently, he realized he leaned against Jonathan in the car, whom stroked Eddie's ginger hair gently in a comforting attempt.

Then he walked to the house, feeling the bandages on his calf after they ripped his pant leg. This costume was ruined.

Edward didn't ask for more, and he disappeared in his room as soon as they arrived, not willing to deal with anything or anyone right now.

 

"You let Pamela shoot me!"

"And what was I supposed to do?", Jonathan retorted, unmoved. "Take a dart for you?"

The doctor entered his room the tomorrow morning, bringing... breakfast. For as unusual and weird as the sight was, Edward didn't comment about Scarecrow serving him _breakfast in bed_. He would have make a sarcastic or appreciative remark if he wasn't so mad, but given his present mood he greeted him aggressively instead.

"Not take it for me, but just... tell her not to do that!", Ed answered, trying to look less desperate and betrayed than he felt. "I... I trust you, Jon. I really do. And I trust Pamela and Jervis too. I don't care that sometimes you aren't talking right to me or you have a few... strange reactions, you are like that and it's fine by me, I'm used to it. But don't _trap me_ into doing something that broke a part of me and _threat_ me into going through with it by... litteraly attacking me!", he exclaimed. "I don't think that's too much to ask to only require not to get _shot_ by my... my..."

"Were you about to say 'friends'?", the professor suggested in a detached voice.

Edward lowered his gaze, as Jon put down his plate before grabbing the medical supplies he brought with him as well, obviously to change the bandages on his leg.

"Perhaps.", Eddie conceded. "But no need to serve me your usual speech about why feelings are for losers and if I want to survive I must train my heart to turn cold. It doesn't work on me. It just... doesn't. Now however.", he added looking back to him sharply. "It's at least _clear_ I've been wrong to consider the three of you as my friends. You had no right to abuse of my trust and my will like that."

His glare grew harder.

"And I blame _you_ as much as Isley. You may didn't fire, you agreed to let her do it, Hell _you_ put that gun in my hands! Were you guys... planning this? What was that exactly, your sick, perverted version of an initiation?!"

"Maybe it was.", Jonathan responded, much more calm than the younger one as he carefully took hold of his leg without having been given permission, and Ed surprised himself when he let him go to work without fighting at all. "Or maybe.", the former psychiatrist went on while unwrapping the old bandages, now focused on his task. "It was your last chance."

"My last chance?!", Ed repeated, baffled. "And last chance of _what_ may I ask?!"

"Of stepping back.", Jon answered, still perfectly collected and not looking at him to take care of the wound.

"Stepping back?", the teenager quoted again his eldest's words, at a loss.

Jonathan looked up and stared at him a long moment, his blue eyes studying him closely behind his squared glasses, as he often did.

"It was all fun and games.", the doctor announced in a clinical intonation, although his shining eyes gleamed with way more life than his monotone voice let on. "You put on a funny suit, began to play and enjoyed yourself. Until the moment would come when you will snap. We simply gave you the occasion to choose whose side you're on."

"Side? I am not on a 'side' or another! I'm one of you now!", he vehemently defended himself. "That I never killed doesn't mean I'm a hero! What kind of simplistic reasoning is this?! That you need to be a murderer to be a feared rogue?!"

"Not a question you have to ponder over anymore.", Jonathan said instead of responding to the provocation, before looking down again and quickly resuming his work on his calf. "Because now, my little Riddler, you fully stepped in _our_ side of the fight."

Edward gazed at him with narrowed eyes.

"You honestly think so?", he sneered. "You think because I put a bullet in some unknown guy after one of my associates _shot me_ for that I fulfill her demand, it makes me a cold-blooded killer?! What happened tonight was a fiasco in the one I had to act a certain manner because it was my only solution to get out without being hurt further. That doesn't make me a monster."

His eyes shot daggers at him even though Scarecrow was not looking back, rather finishing to wrap the new bandages.

"That doesn't make me like you, Isley, and Tetch.", Ed pursued with a bitterness that he was not used to convey very often. "I am a colleague, I have my place in the Gallery, and a _main spot_ moreover. But I will _never_ be just like you!"

"... True.", Jonathan agreed when he finished his task, and looked up, not even taking offense as Edward expected him to, for the poor way he addressed him. "You are simply friend with the monsters. That doesn't make you one."

Then he cautiously put the right leg wrapped in its clean bandages back on the mattress.

"You should drink your chocolate while it's hot.", he indicated, pointing to the plate containing a mug of Ed's favorite drink, a glass of orange juice and pancakes with their little pot of syrup nearby.

If he was not so mad, Eddie would have commented with an appreciative sincerity the attention. But today he was convinced that nothing his science bros would do or say, no matter how nice it may was, would make the fury he felt towards them cool off.

Probably knowing that, Jon stood up and reached the door without further ceremony, not waiting for a thank you or anything of that kind he knew won't come today.

He turned around on the doorframe just when he was about to leave, and ended, with an incredibly disturbing smile:

"But last night, child. You proved you may are not completely like us, you have the potential to become."

Then he shut the door closed behind him.

Edward refrained the urge to scream after him.

How dare Jon imply things like that?! He was a rogue, but not a... a... criminal? However somehow, he became one. Somehow, he... stepped further into this 'dark side' he mocked Ivy to name that way.

But truth is they were right.

He killed a man a few hours ago.

As he took a sip of his chocolate, Edward wondered over his feelings towards the situation.

Does that make him a... murderer?

In a way, it does, he concluded rapidly, before he began to eat his breakfast, and realized he was very hungry after the night. The wound must help, too. He was always more hungry when he got a serious injury, and over the previous two years he realized the benefits of having money: he was not starving anymore like he had been the first fifteen years of his life.

Well, during the weeks at Arkham he didn't eat much, but these never lasted long so he could rest and built back his physical resources again after every escaping.

The thought made him smile a little.

He visibly was not that shaken by having killed a person, since he could think without much remorse and reflected upon the advantages of benefiting from more than one meal a day in his lucky days.

No, really. He may blame his trio of mentors / psychotic buddies, but that was because they gave him an ultimatum and shot him. He didn't like being threatened like that, _this_ was what bothered him and the reason why he was angry at them.

But for the rest? For the action of killing, for what happened last night? He couldn't even tell if he felt anything about it.

Sure, he had been a bit shaken in the heat of the action, but who won't be?

This excepted nevertheless, he didn't feel even the beginning of _remorse_  now he thought of what happened. The only reason he refused to commit the crime at first was because he deemed he was _better_ than that. Also because killing was a too easy way to deal with stuff. He didn't want people to remember him for a number of victims or damages he caused, but for the brilliant schemes he designed, for the impressive demonstrations of his sharp intellect and his natural superior intelligence.

What didn't erase anything to the fact he still didn't feel bad for pulling that trigger. He was not sad, he didn't feel down or sick now the action was over, and no nightmares visited him as he slept tonight, proving he was not unconsciously guilty either. He was only angry at Isley, for causing him a painful injury, as the result of what he now had to _wait_ until the wound healed before starting his next move to invite the bats in a dance he'll lead.

But the action of killing itself? He may had been shaken when he executed it, he was also completely and irrevocably numb and... indifferent, to confess he committed it.

_______________

 

Edward turned eighteen two weeks after his first 'murder'. Today was kind of a big day; even if not many people knew his birthday date, and not many remembered it when he told them.

Not that he cared much. At Arkham they never got any dates or ages right. Sometimes they registered the inmates a few years younger or older than what they really are, sometimes they invented them a birthday date they fished out of nowhere and which didn't match with anything. It seemed a bit strange they weren't able to keep _one_ date and follow the rogues' growth over the years. Needless to say, the complete absence of anything looking like a  _structure_  in the asylum was an endless subject of mockery.

Of course, it also depended on the person in charge of the moment, and coming with this the more or less severe rules inside the prison and the more or less effective security.

But in present day, Edward's birthday changed almost every time he entered the asylum, and as for his age... that was another deal. If they moved the day in the calendar very easily despite the fact Ed repeated the same date every time, it was a bit more complicated for the year they wrote down. Because even if no one was _blind_ , therefore everybody _knew_ he was under eighteen years old when he has been arrested after his first Riddler appearance, he had never been registered as being fifteen, sixteen then seventeen in the Arkham files.

If someone checked these, he was always either twenty or nineteen. Eighteen at a few occasions. But never a teenager, since that could give birth to... complications, for the staff, if someone who looked into what happened in Arkham learned they were treating a minor the same way they treated the other inmates. Not that anyone cared enough to look into it, though.

But today it was different. He will _officially_ be eighteen next time he'll join Arkham (he may was always convinced his traps will succeed, he also knew all too well Batman ended up having the last word every time...). And he was, from now on, officially an 'adult'.

Of course the age itself didn't mean much, and he always acted like an adult, no matter he was a child or a teen. Yet it felt... good, in a way. Next time one of his fellow rogues called him 'kid' as they often did, he could finally answer they were wrong about it.

Little did he know, that changed _nothing_ to the fact they all _kept_ the habit of calling him 'kid', and this for many years to come. Some things never change, right?

Or... they changed a little.

This is what Edward could attest, when he faced Batman and Robin for the first time after being an official adult, and the first time after he actually murdered someone.

Batman and Robin.

Except that it was... another Robin.

"What happened to Birdie the First?", Ed jested when Batman put the handcuffs around his wrists, in a gesture already repeated so often. "You told him he became too old to wear the panties, so you looked for an other underage companion you could turn into your sidekick, train him and drag him along with you?"

"Can I punch him?", Birdie the Second asked with a thick suburbs accent that made Edward cringe.

He didn't like the cockiness that radiated from this boy who couldn't be older than ten / eleven years old.

"No need for that, Robin.", Batman answered with what looked like an held back smile. "Keep the blows for the ones who resist a bit more. As you'll find out, Riddler is not much of a challenge."

The replacement in the first costume, the one without pants Robin 1 wore at the beginning,  _laughed_ , and Edward hissed in disapproval.

"Mocking me won't get you anywhere, Bats.", he growled. "And for not a challenge, may I remind you _you_ are always the first one to enjoy playing my games?! Poor thing, you'll be lost without me."

Batman glared at him.

"Can I punch him now?", the child required again, visibly ready to take care of anything, but Batman held him back once more.

"This is not Robin's costume you should have given to this one.", Eddie scoffed. "It's a muzzle, a collar and a leash to keep your attack dog from bitting bystanders in the streets."

And he must recognize he deserved that blow the boy gave him. Damn, he punched harder than the previous Robin while him and the said previous sidekick met when he was a taller, stronger, and older teenager than Ed. Gosh, the last thing he needed right now was an enemy like this petulant, violent newcomer.

___________________

 

"What's up with the new suit? Ya try to make yarself look older or somethin'?"

Edward addressed him a warning glance. But he couldn't help, he brushed his vest in a very snobbish way.

"Do you like it?", he said smugly, and Robin laughed.

"I'm gonna punch yar face anyway, that ya're wearin' yar old stupid leotard or this new businessman frog-colored suit!", he retorted with another giggle.

"'Stupid leotard'?!", Ed quoted, vexed. "You're one to talk, you still wear a scaly panty looking like a diaper!"

He didn't know when it started precisely, that Robin and him began to tease each other like children whenever the Boy Wonder got to him after he solved his puzzles and was about to arrest him.

He fired of his newly aquired cane, and Robin easily dodged the gadget thrown by the cane, then joked once again about how slow and unprecise Eddie's attacks were.

This was not even true, he got way better over the months. He may was not a good fighter, he could hold himself a bit, could properly give a punch now. Almost. Let's say he was pleased enough with the improvement, but that didn't mean he suddenly loved hand-to-hand combats. The only power he counted on and what he built his business around was _intellect_  after all, not brute strength.

So as unpredictable as it was, he got along very well with this kid who took the Robin mantle two years ago now, despite the fact the boy was anything but an intellectual. He actually acted closer to a _bully_ than anything else. The previous Robin, even if he didn't frequent him very long, along with Batgirl, were much more the kind of people he could appreciate. In fact, the two acolytes, older than Eddie, took the time to _think_ about his riddles and were not completely incompetent at solving his enigmas.

Especially Batgirl, she held a particular sort of admiration from him since she was one of the rare persons able to hack his security. It happened two times over the years: he was still planning his next scheme, only to be arrested by the red-headed woman after she tracked leads of his activities, and found a way to reach out to him and apprehend him _before_ he put anything in place for his trap.

He must say he respected her skills and intelligence.

While Birdie the Second...

Edward refrained a sigh when the dark-haired kid wearing a domino mask closed the handcuffs around his wrists.

"Looks like the new costume didn't bring ya much luck, right Eddie?"

"Next time it will, you'll see.", he replied, unimpressed. "What has no hands but might knock on your door, and you'd better open to invite it in if it does?"

"Dunno.", the sidekick shrugged. "And I really don't care."

Ed huffed audibly. Another thing that highly pissed him off with this boy: he didn't give a damn about his riddles. At least the previous Dynamic Duo and Batgirl _always_ answered his riddles, they _played along!_ So okay they won over him, and for some mysterious reason it always ended up with him being brought back to Arkham, so they clearly cheated somewhere. But they never refused to answer the questions he asked, both during his plans and whenever he talked with them after!

"It's opportunity.", he responded himself because otherwise Robin won't propose anything.

"You sure?", the younger one teased him back and Eddie glared again.

"Yes.", he answered through gritted teeth. "I am _sure_."

"Really? Because I am not. Are you 100% _certain_ this is the answer to yar riddle?"

"Yes I am!", he cried out. "Stop questioning my abilities and quit trying to make me loose my mind!"

"Sorry Ed, but it's just so fuckingly easy to make ya angry, that's not somethin' I'm gonna pass!"

Most of their exchanges went on like that. And despite his external frustration and how easily the boy got on his nerves, Edward admitted he... sort of liked him.

An opinion that the other rogues judged 'insane' when they all met to discuss about the new kid. They did so when Nightwing appeared, most of them were convinced he was the first Robin and the reason he disappeared for over six months was because he needed time to convince Batman to let him wear his new ridiculous disco blue costume and his mullet. This could even be the origin of the obvious dispute that caused the original Dynamic Duo to split.

They had a lot of fun inventing their fight over this: Batman refusing his former acolyte wears such a thing, both suit and haircut; versus Robin whom argued it was original and somehow back at being trendy. Then the two of them ended up parting ways because of their divergences in fashion sense.

Under two months after Nightwing's appearance, Robin 2 arrived. And everybody in the Rogues Gallery quickly concluded they hated him because he punched much harder than Robin 1 and Batgirl, plus he was way more provocant and sassy with everyone than the two first sidekicks and Batman. More adventurous than the original acolytes, too. More... keen on taking decisions without Batman's approval. This actually got him a few compliments from the Gallery, even if for the rest the insufferable personality of this kid was enough for everyone to be greatly done with him. And although Edward agreed with this statement, he couldn't help being... very _satisfied_ in the end, with Batman's choice of a new Robin.

 

"New costume?", Batman pointed out as Ed was sitting in the Batmobile's passenger seat, waiting to be driven back to Arkham once again.

The first time he showed up with his green and purple suit, only Robin was there to apprehend him, the Bat was on a mission in outerspace with his bitches... sorry, with the Justice League. So even if it was not Eddie's first scheme in his new aesthetical outfit, it was indeed the first time the Bat properly saw him dressed like that. He didn't say anything during their fight after he succeeded at solving his trap, but now they were together in the Batmobile, he took the time to mention he noticed the change in Riddler's clothing style.

Edward liked the attention very much.

"It helps me feeling more adult.", he told him accordingly, looking to his suit with pride. "I liked the spandex, but... I felt like it was time for me to take an upgrade."

The Bat nodded with an expression of appreciation.

"It looks good on you.", he even commented.

"Thanks!", Eddie exclaimed, victorious to receive a compliment from the Dark Knight. "If I knew you liked suits better, I would have changed earlier!"

Then he leaned a bit towards his driver, a smug grin on his lips that always made the Bat quite uncomfortable, so even more when they were together inside an enclosed space like his odd car. Then Edward pursued in his best flirty tone:

"Should I tell Selina you prefer ties, shirts and jackets to skin-tight body suits? Because if it's the case, then I'm sure this is an information she'd like to have."

Batman only growled like a cavern bear in response, and Ed laughed at his reaction.

He was undoubtably _pleased_ with the improvement. He was a bit under twenty and a half now, he wore the green leotard with question marks all over it for almost five years. The only modifications lied in the design itself, sometimes one big question mark on his chest, sometimes a full of these, sometimes they were purple or black on the green background, the latter coming in several shades of green he chose depending on the mood. At a few occasions he added a belt to the outfit, and other fashion accessories here and there. Eddie had a full collection of different spandex he used over the years, and he made some changes in the design for nearly every new scheme. To the point he wore the same costume (a dark green leotard with a huge purple question mark circled with silver on his torso) only three times over five years, the rest of the times he showed up with a variant in his spandex costume.

Now it was time to try something new. And so far, it only got him compliments.

Furthermore it _did_ make him feel more mature. He wasn't sure what it was due to, but switching his dressing code from leotards to suits helped making him _look_ more adult too. It will turn out to be an actual step into having people taking him seriously, as he was going to find out over the following months, before deciding that from now on he definitely settled for suits, with no going back to his old outfits.

By doing so, he accepted it as part of his identity, and if it may didn't seem like a big deal for other persons, to Edward the aspect and the way someone showed off was much more important and held a deeper signification than it did to most. The suit had been more of an experiment at first, but after a few months of showing this new design to Gotham City as he elaborated his schemes, he liked it more and more and collected positive feedbacks.

Thus it became his new official appearance.

____________

 

The Riddler's schemes evolved over the following year. They weren't only distractions anymore. No longer an amusing little game he played. Killing a man many months ago had not been the trigger his science bros expected, since Edward's next plans after this action never involved victims and he stubbornly went back at being, although slightly more dangerous, a  _non-lethal_ foe.

However he graduated to something _else_ entirely the day he started taking _hostages_ in for the first time. He used to menace that a bomb will explode somewhere in town if Batman didn't solve his puzzles on time, this has been his way to operate sometimes. But never a huge explosion, never in a main street, never somewhere that could cause human losses, but rather in a warehouse, in somewhere dedicated to storage or in an office after the workers left the place. Only _material_ destructions. Most of the time he wasn't even uttering threats with explosives, but with homemade programs and viruses in computing he'll release if the bats-and-birds failed to correctly answer his riddles.

While today for the first time, he aligned alive hostages, and not computer equipments or economic records what could become potential victims if his plan wasn't solved.

No. Now he had a visual on five real persons, and Batman had to play the exact way he expected him to if he wanted to save everyone.

Edward wished he was being all confident about it, but truth is he was _terrified_.

Terrified the Dynamic Duo won't be there on time, terrified they won't solve his puzzle correctly, terrified they got one answer wrong and one of the hostages will die. He had been sick the hours before he launched his plan, and threw up in the toilet multiple times before standing up on weak, shaky legs.

Why was he doing that?

It was making him physically _sick_ with stress, so why was he inflicting this to himself?! No one forced him to order his henchmen to rope these people onto a chair, and spread them on different places in Gotham to complete his complex labyrinth. No one asked him to set riddles for the Bat to solve, each one leading to the location of one of the victims, and giving him a short lapse of time to answer another puzzle once he arrived at their location, with the purpose to free them from the mechanism they were trapped inside.

No one made him do it.

No one threatened him into crossing the line between setting up plans that looked more like innocent games and showing up with a... jigsaw-like action. He hated it. He hated it when he crafted it, it made him nauseous when he put the action with living people into effect, the terror nearly caused him a mental breakdown when he waited for Batman to got the answers right, and he thought he was going to pass out when Batgirl almost failed to answer one of the puzzles, and rescued the victim just before the trap closed around them leading to their death.

He was behind his screens, sweating as he watched the bats' progression, severely wiping the tears every time they rolled despite his best attempts at keeping his emotions under control, and shaking so violently he had to count to ten and force himself to take deep breaths every minute.

He wasn't a killer. He wasn't a killer. He couldn't do it. Why did he try to do it? Why did he try to act like a real villain, while he was... was... something else? He didn't want that to happen... didn't want... didn't... couldn't let that happen...

Edward pressed the button leading to cancelation.

He couldn't do it. Batman stepped back as the trap keeping a crying man from escaping stopped itself while the limitation of time was over. Stupid Batman. Silly Batman, not even able to solve this problem. Not even...

Wait, that made him a cheater. Stopping the snare while Batman failed to answer correctly made Edward a cheater for canceling the movement! And he couldn't be a... he wasn't...

"No!", he yelled at his screens, and violently resumed the action.

What he didn't see however, was that during the time the mechanism stopped, Batman and Batgirl who were the two teaming up this time, managed to free the hostage from the machine.

Ed looked at the screen, breathless, eyes wide and his chair fallen on the ground behind him when he stood up.

He was not a cheater.

Once he set up rules, he played by them, he didn't break them. Never! He was NOT a CHEATER!

When Batman arrived at his hiding place, he found him as still as a statue watching the screens, without having moved at all while his mind was far from where his body was.

"Riddler?"

No response, and Bruce, genuinely worried now, reached out to him.

Edward jumped out of his skin when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder, and turned around to see the Bat looking down to him with a strange mix of confusion and accusative glance.

"What was that?", the vigilante asked in a low voice, but Eddie detected the hidden sparkle of concern he heard at a few occasions in his tone, most of the time when he spoke to his acolytes. "What was this game you made us play?"

"I..."

Ed stood more straightly, easily faking a composure when Bruce removed his hand.

"I don't see why you're surprised.", he replied, forcing himself to play bratty while the sole need he felt right now was to curl up on the ground and cry his eyes out, only making a concentrated effort not to vomit all over the floor.

He rather looked up to the Bat with pride and asked, provocant:

"What else were you expecting from me?"

"... Anything else.", Batman answered after a moment of silence, and Eddie couldn't think of an appropriate way to respond.

Silence lasted a bit, although never too long with Edward: the absence of shared words in his immediate surroundings made him uncomfortable.

"I am not a child anymore.", he told the Bat, eying him with a resolute gaze and speaking in a firm tone of voice.

"So you think being an adult means putting people in danger in a way that makes you a criminal and a maniac?", the vigilante evaluated, and Ed remembered this remark was very similar to what he made himself to his colleagues when they trapped him into committing a murder, over three years ago now.

"Are you mad?", he asked so, daring the older one to answer. "Are you finally ready to admit I am no longer a plaything who distracts you but an actual _enemy?_ "

Batman glared at him, his face and whole body language back at wearing the usual mask of indifference everyone associated with his persona.

"I am disappointed.", he stated instead of commenting the provocation. "In a way I couldn't have predicted I would be any time soon. I am _so_ disappointed in you."

Edward's fists clenched.

"You think I give a damn about your opinion?!", he accused him. "That because you are suddenly... 'disappointed in me' for no reason, I'm gonna feel bad?! That I'm gonna... change who I am to _please_ you perhaps?!"

The Bat's expression was unreadable when he retorted:

"What happened tonight. You setting up a puzzle with hostages and death traps like that? That was not you.", he concluded, categorical with his neutral tone. "I don't know what you are trying to prove here, Nygma. But certainly not that you are growing up."

Eddie was more confused than ever when he went back to Arkham after this episode. About Batman's reaction, about _his_ own actions as well.

Why did he play that game? Murder was not his thing. It never had been, in any of his previous attacks in Gotham City.

And torture even less. Hell, even the _thought_ of what could have happened tonight if Batman and Batgirl didn't save everyone made him sick to his stomach as he recalled the events. The events he _provoked_.

What kind of game was he playing now?

Who was the Riddler becoming?

Before he started to plan this scheme involving victims like that, he always let a back door open, a way out he could quickly reach and exit by if things became too much to bear or if he felt like he wasn't at the right place for him anymore.

By never making victims and never causing actual damages during his plans, Edward kept for himself an open door to step out of the business in an instant, the very _day_ he decided things were going too far and he wanted to leave this way of life. He kept this sort of security belt on, this safe door leading to a fast, easy to achieve, _reform_ the moment he'd choose to move on from this life.

But as he saw things given what he did tonight, that door was now closed.

 


End file.
